Missing Man
by Soleya
Summary: Jack is driving Daniel CRAZY! Could it be that he's missing his favorite distraction?
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Don't own any of it. But don't tell me that right now. I'm grumpy.

Author's note: This story is inspired by... me... right now. You'll figure it out. :-P

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**The Missing Man**

Daniel squinted at the inscribed pillar before him, trying to determine its basic meaning before grabbing another piece of paper and charcoal to get a rubbing.

"You done yet?"

The archaeologist tore himself away from the rubbing to scowl briefly at his CO. The man reclined against a very fragile partial wall which, of course, had writings on it that Daniel hadn't looked at yet. With the way Jack fidgeted, they might be rubbed off before he got there.

"No." He went back to his work.

~/~

"You done _now_?"

"Teal'c, would you do something about him?" Daniel growled.

"I regret I cannot," the Jaffa complained in his usual flat voice.

"I'm bored, Daniel."

The younger man took a deep breath, trying to compose himself. "Patience is a virtue, Jack."

~/~

"Daniel, I'm hungry."

"Eat a power bar."

"I don't want a power bar; I want real food. Which requires going _home_."

"Well, suck it up, Jack."

The colonel lasted about thirty seconds before he asked, "Are you done _now_?"

Annoyed, Daniel spun on him. "You know, it's not very nice to take advantage of Sam."

"Oh?" Jack asked innocently. "And how's that?"

"If she were here, she'd be keeping you out of my hair."

"Well, she's _not_ here."

"I know. And you're using her misery to get your way."

"And what is it, exactly, that you think she'd say if she were here?" Jack taunted.

"Oh, I don't know, something along the lines of, 'Sir, if Daniel finds the key to the Ancient device we found on P8X-224, it could be a fantastic weapon in our fight against the Goa'uld.'"

Jack considered that for a moment and nodded. It was a pretty good impression.

"And you know she's itching to get that thing working."

"If she's ever allowed back on base again."

"It can't be that bad, Jack."

"Yeah?" the older man challenged. "How do you know? You won't go see her."

Daniel bit his lip. "I'm very sensitive to these things."

"Uh-huh. Finish your drawing."


	2. Chapter 2

Jack knocked, but didn't bother waiting for an answer before digging through his keychain and letting himself into Carter's house. She wouldn't get up, anyway. "It's me!" he called softly, so as not to alarm her.

"Yay," came the low, sarcastic reply from the living room, and he smiled, glad she couldn't see him.

He took the time to shed his coat and hang it up – he'd keep her company for awhile. "Need some more tea?"

"Please?"

Bypassing the living room altogether, he headed to the kitchen and shoved a mug in the microwave, and, while he waited, he started cleaning up. The place was a mess – towels and large bowls and empty teacups littered the counter. His favorite part, though, was the pile of dirty teaspoons that sat neatly next to the sink.

Grabbing a bag of her cinnamon spice tea – she was running low, and he made a mental note to pick up some – he grabbed the hot mug from the microwave and dropped the bag into it. Waiting for tea to steep was obnoxious, boring, and it reminded him why he never drank the stuff.

Smelled good, though.

"What are you doing?" Carter's voice called.

"Making your tea," he yelled back, "and cleaning your kitchen, you slob." She said something incomprehensible, and he smiled, ditched the tea bag, and headed into the living room.

Carter sat in the corner of the couch, huddled under every blanket she owned. The coffee table was pulled almost all the way to the sofa, littered with all the necessities of life – a bottle of ibuprofen, one of cough syrup, and a box of Kleenex. All the teacups that weren't in the kitchen were gathered near the Kleenex box, and next to her on the floor sat a trash can heaping with used tissues.

"Nice," he commented, earning a glare, but she took the cup of tea and held it covetously under her nose.

"Dis is the first thing I've sbelled all day," she mumbled, though the congestion wreaked havoc on her pronunciation.

"But can you taste it?"

She took an experimental sip and wrinkled her nose. "No."

It came out sounding very Homer Simpson-esque, and he couldn't hold back a chuckle as he perched in a chair next to the couch.

"You're evil," she muttered, "laughing at a sick girl. Where's a sarcophagus when you deed one?"

The chuckle morphed into an all-out belly laugh.

"Seriously. This sucks."

"I know," he soothed, "but it could be worse. You could've had your appendix out like Daniel."

"Yeah, but they have drugs for that."

"You have drugs for this."

"Daniel's were better. And he got to _sleep_. I wanna sleep," she murmured wistfully.

"Congestion keeping you up?"

She nodded. "And de cold pills are even worse. They bake me jittery, and I'b so tired, but I just can't fall asleep."

He did feel pretty bad for her. "Have you considered excessive amounts of alcohol?" he suggested with a grin.

"Somehow I don't think that would tur'd out well for me. Where are the other two?"

"Uh, Daniel's claiming a weak immune system."

"Pansy," she muttered.

"And Teal'c doesn't understand how you could possibly be this miserable just because you're cold."

The stoic eyebrow raise didn't work so well with her red, puffy eyes. "Did you tell him there's a difference between being cold and _having_ a cold?"

"I didn't bother," he confessed. "So it's just you and me. How 'bout a nice, dull movie you can fall asleep to?"

"You don't have to hang around, sir. I'b gross." As if to prove her point, she sneezed - loudly and pathetically - and grabbed for a tissue.

He smiled and started to pick up the empty mugs. "Little bit," he agreed. "But not near enough to chase me away."

And when she smiled, red eyes, peeling nose, and clammy skin and all, the risk of catching whatever she had was totally worth it.

The End

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*sniffle*


End file.
